A neurobiological work in progress

I’m commencing to think…..

It’s a phrase-ism my mother-in-law uses. “I’m commencing to think that __________________( fill in the blank here). ” But today, I did a thing, a little behavioral habit of mine that I know usually leaves me kind of icky-feeling, but that’s never stopped me before.

Back in the day, when Luke was still a thing, and I was attention seeking, and dopamine driven, and sex addicted, I would get restless. If there was not enough sunshine being blown up my skirt at any given moment, I would go and look for it. This usually took the form of texts, social media contacts, DM’s via any of a million electronic pathways. Luke, Mike, Carl, Nicholas (dear christ, don’t tell anybody.) I still kind of do that. New guy I’m flirting with, insanely straight arrow, gonna end up being Christian Grey in reverse if he doesn’t drop dead at just the thoughtof not-vanilla-sex. Some friends, too, just for affirmation, right? Court, Sharon, Bre.

So today is a day off, and I’m home without a car, which means, chill, have some wine, and let the mind and activity wander. The problems is, “have some wine” morphs into “drink the whole bottle,” get horny and giddy and flirty and then, because I am home alone, start feeling like I am not having enough sexual sunshine being blown up my skirt, and so I go looking for it. Just like before. But there’s no real players in my game anymore, (except for me.) And there’s a difference between “you’re hot, I like you, lets get wasted and have Skype sex” vs. “you’re friend-zoned, and wasted, and throwing yourself at me like a desperate, soft, middle-aged housewife.” One is wild, one is nuts. One will fuck you on the hood of your car in the driveway while your wife is sleeping inside; the other will boil your daughter’s bunny. Guess which one I feel like?

See the meme/graphic/photo thingy at the top of the page? Yeah. I’m commencing to think maybe having a bottle of wine at a time, and getting horny alone, and making rounds of the dwindling list of people who still like me is perhaps not the best idea. That perhaps my judgment may be a little bit off when I am that deep in a bottle. that a couple/three bottles a week is perhaps a little bit much. That maybe I should cancel that wine subscription that delivers six bottles a month.

Or maybe I should embrace the crazy psycho, tire slashing batch that I am, and stand my ground. real or not real??